“He . . . he was ma best friend . . .” Beo said. “Don’t think he knew dat. I don’t... I don’t want dem to get his body. Dey didn’t earn it. Sneakin’ up on him like a buncha’ cowards. Leavin him to bleed out.”
Jonathan looked at the man, listened to his words. It pained him; he knew the sort of grief that could suddenly make a man so giant seem as though he’d been reduced to a child inside. Yet, his words echoed what Jonathan was already thinking. These Ferox with the tribal designs. They seemed a different breed. Mito probably took that axe to his helmet before he even knew he was in a fight.
Rylee turned to put a hand on the giant man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Beo.”
He looked at her strangely for a moment. “You cryin under der, Red? Yo voice sound funny.”
She cleared her throat and shook her head. There might be a time to explain her change in accent, but this wasn’t it.
Jonathan took a place beside them. They were all going to have to watch, powerless to do anything for the man. Any minute now, his body would disappear, show up in the gateway fields on the other side.
“We won’t leave him, Beo, but we need to step away,” Jonathan said.
Beo swallowed, and gently let Mito’s head rest as he backed away.
The length of the time wasn’t long. But they were waiting to see a friend die, and so it was an eternity. Finally, his vital signs flattened in the HUD. The red sphere came and took Mito’s remains across the threshold. And the red dot that had shown his location on everyone’s map disappeared.
Beo stood there for a long moment. What he did next surprised them all. He opened up a link to every comm.
“Ya’ll, Mito’s gone,” Beo whispered in every soldier’s ear. “But da bastards neva made em bend.”
He stood to his full height and turned to leave. He paused for a moment when he saw the gnarly axe of the Ferox Alpha now clearly visible on the floor. He stooped down to pick it up. He might have been the only man in the whole damn Army large enough—with hands large enough—to look as though he could wield the thing.
“Brings da Rain, we still gonna make a Borealis bend today?” Beo asked.
“Nothing has changed,” Jonathan said.
Beo nodded, then he walked away.
“Almost feel sorry for the next Ferox he finds out there,” Rylee said.
Jonathan looked to her for a moment, then he went to each of the corpses, removing the other cloaking devices from their foreheads.
“You uh, look like you got a plan coming together in that head of yours,” Rylee said.
He held them out to her. “Do a guy a favor?”
She looked at the cloaking devices curiously, but before she could ask, a voice interrupted on the comm.
“Re-entry successful,” Bodhi said. “Did I miss anything?”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ONE
ON THE OTHER side of the conduit, Heyer faced his own obstacles. Everything depended on his being able to reach Cede, but that couldn’t happen until his brother left this plane.
From where Heyer hid amongst the Ferox in the pit, it seemed no matter how many marched through the portal, the Feroxian hordes surrounding the higher ridges were never at a loss for reinforcements. He had always known the Ferox would outnumber them, but with the females joining the invasion their numbers might as well have been inexhaustible.
Heyer had a limited idea of how the fight fared for the humans on the other side. His only gauge, the number of soldiers lost, their bodies being returned to the gateway fields around the conduit. He could only estimate the losses, there was no way to count, but he had serious doubts that Jonathan had more than two hundred men left.
By now, it seemed certain that as long as Heyer kept any interactions to a minimum, the Ferox around him remained oblivious to any strangeness in his nature.
In the past, Heyer had used an entrance hidden to the Ferox when he needed to enter Cede. He hadn’t bothered to check whether or not that entrance still existed. Even if he’d found it there, if his brother hadn’t removed the entrance—then it was most certainly a trap tailored for the one being who knew of its existence.
No, the hidden entrance was not a viable option, but there was a good chance Malkier wouldn’t expect Heyer to walk right through the front door. Of course, to reach said entrance, Heyer had to go down into what remained of the Feroxian tunnels. The way down was plain to see. Within the pit, what remained of the tunnels began as a hole right beside the platform itself. When he made his way down, he would be walking directly beneath the conduit.
None of this was a surprise; they knew that Cede had to be directly beneath the platform and the gateway fields to manage all the necessary power keeping the conduit open.
Still, he expected the place would be guarded. Malkier may have had every reason to be confident in the Ferox’s ability to defeat The Never Army, but after the last few months the amount of conceit required to leave the place completely defenseless was unlikely. The nature of what his brother would leave to guard the entrance below was what worried him. For all the things Jonathan claimed to know with certainty, he had been very clear that he could not predict what Heyer might expect when he reached Cede’s threshold.
Jonathan was expecting that if he got Malkier off the Feroxian Plane, Heyer would hopefully be able to deal with whatever else might be put in his path. In other words, Jonathan had faith in him. Of course, that was a lot like saying that there was an element of luck in this. In Heyer’s experience, luck seldom took his side.
Grant’s voice cracked in his ear. “Something’s up. Take a look at your brother.”
Subtly, Heyer turned, looking up the platform’s massive walls from where he stood within the Ferox crowd. The prophet was not difficult to locate, standing in his gleaming plated armor, like a demigod brought to life. Course, that was likely half the point. Malkier could have easily made the armor look less magnificent without losing any defensive function.
He couldn’t hear what Malkier was saying from here, but that wasn’t what had drawn Grant’s attention. What was odd, was that his brother appeared to be talking to no one, and at the same time he seemed very displeased at what he was hearing.
One of the cloaked Ferox had returned.
This was confirmed a moment later when Malkier put out his hand, and a female Ferox appeared in front of him, the cloaking device having withdrawn from her body into the headband. She was kneeling with one fist on the platform. She removed the headband as though being stripped of a crown and placed it in Malkier’s armored hand.
Heyer recognized the female. Though he found he couldn’t recall her name. He knew of her, because she was Burns the Flame’s eldest daughter.
A strange sensation tried to overtake him as he looked up at her. As though Heyer realized just how—fair—she was. A sensation he had been mildly aware of before, as he had encountered others of this host’s species. This was different. A strange instinct was coming over him. He felt sudden certainty the female would accept his offer of consonance if only he presented her a trophy. More, he found the urge to seek out said trophy profoundly distracting.
Jarred by what he realized was happening, he looked away. The longer he looked at the female the more the urge to seek a combatant burned in him. As a human, Heyer would have wrestled his thoughts with logic, concentrate on priorities. Kept himself focused against their natural wanderings. This tactic seemed far less successful in his current host.
Strangely, he found the powerful urge diminish when he focused on his brother. The reason why this had worked took him a moment, and even then, he wasn’t sure. He suspected that one instinct was being suppressed by another of a stronger nature. His brother actually had nothing to do with it. Rather, the presence of an Alpha diminished his urge.
Almost as though a Red male, in the presence of an Alpha, knew not to seek combat and consonance without deferring to the Alpha.
“Heyer, you alright?” Grant asked. “You look like you’re eyei
ng a prime rib.”
Heyer patted his shoulder once. One pat for yes and two for no having become the simplest way to communicate. The movements looking natural enough on a Ferox. So far, this was one of the few times Heyer was glad they couldn’t speak in greater detail.
Malkier’s expression only worsened as the female finally finished her report. His brother dismissed her, and Heyer made a point of not watching where she went afterward. He feared the knowledge would distract him again.
“Well, I remember that look, your brother is pissed,” Grant said.
One pat.
“Might be worth talking to the female—see if you can learn what she told him.”
Heyer shivered, then patted his shoulder twice.
“You sure,” Grant said. “She’s already headed your way.”
Heyer glanced up, finding the female had descended the platform ramp and was now headed in his general direction. He turned away abruptly—and immediately regretted that he hadn’t been more subtle.
“What was that?” Grant asked. “Now, she’s staring right at you.”
Heyer moved, pushing his way through the crowded pit as best he could without drawing attention.
“Okay, if you’re trying to lose her,” Grant said. “You’re not succeeding. I gather I’m missing something here?”
One pat.
“Are we exposed?”
Two pats, shake of the fingers.
“We going to be if she catches up to you?”
One pat, shake of the fingers.
“Alright well, you’ve definitely got her attention. She’s circling the crowd to get in front of you.”
Heyer didn’t look but altered course.
“Get it together man,” Grant said. “Even I can tell you’re acting funny.”
One pat.
“Okay, duck behind those gas bladders on your left,” Grant said.
He did as he was told.
“Alright, hold tight,” Grant said.
The seconds ticked by . . . probably only half a minute.
“Okay, she’s giving up,” Grant said. “Give her some time to put more distance between you.”
Heyer let out a long sigh and patted his shoulder.
“Ah, crap,” Grant said.
Heyer waited, the only alternative being to look up at the tower he knew Grant would be on and try to look impatient as he waited for the man to tell him what the problem was.
“She . . . she just headed down the tunnel beneath the platform.”
Heyer patted his shoulder once in acknowledgement. It was a problem that might never come to pass, the tunnels beneath the platform were still vast after all, plenty of paths to take to avoid one Ferox.
“Um, something’s happening,” Grant said.
Heyer looked around and quickly saw that the man was right. It seemed as though every Ferox in the pit had looked up and toward the prophet in near unison. Heyer quickly stood back to his full height and did the same to blend in with the rest.
They stared at the prophet for some time, and again, in near unison, a roar of approval seemed to pour out of the crowds. Suddenly, most of the Ferox began to make their way toward the ramps. As though . . .
“I don’t know what he said to them,” Grant said. “But I think they’re done sending in waves, this looks like a flood.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWO
OVER THE NEXT hour, Rourke no longer needed to bother with updates on the growing size of the next wave. The inner city was swelling with Ferox coming through the conduit like a festering lump readying itself to burst.
Jonathan pulled his soldiers further and further back as the streets and buildings near the portal were overrun. What was interesting—the Ferox weren’t giving chase as his forces pulled back.
They were gathering their numbers en masse. It could only mean they meant to end this war with a final push. The question that remained, was whether or not the prophet would follow them.
Malkier had several advantages since the start of this, but perhaps the greatest was simply knowing exactly how many men Jonathan had left. The prophet knew that the armory only had so many human implants. He’d gone out of his way to make sure Heyer couldn’t procure more before the onset of the war. Tracking fatalities was easy enough. Each time one of them died, a Ferox returned to the gateway field with the corpse.
Yet, it seemed that up until now, as Jonathan’s numbers fell below a hundred, Malkier had held back.
Jonathan knew why. Malkier feared a weapon that he wasn’t sure existed.
Ever since he’d sent those twenty-eight mutilated bodies to Malkier’s front steps, there had been an unknown. A possibility that humanity possessed a weapon unlike anything Malkier could conceive. It wasn’t simply the state of the bodies that had been returned, but how the gateways themselves had seemed to malfunction.
Only Jonathan knew there was no such weapon outside himself. That none of the strangeness around the gates had ever been something he controlled. That it had all been the result of a perfect storm of variables put in play on Malkier’s side and his own.
Why then, had Malkier suddenly become convinced that the danger wasn’t real? After all, if they hadn’t used it by now, was it not possible that humanity was holding out, saving such a powerful thing for their last stand?
The answer came to Jonathan as soon as he knew the Ferox were amassing. After all, only one thing had ultimately changed.
The female of the bonded pair had been in imminent danger. Had nearly been killed—if Jonathan possessed some weapon of mass destruction—he would have used it in that moment. Thing was, if Malkier assumed all that—he’d have been right. The moment Leah’s voice had called for backup had been the most frightening of Jonathan’s life. If Jonathan had possessed a button that could have stopped it—he’d have pressed it.
Jonathan had been well aware of what he would do in such a situation. Which was why—if a weapon of such power existed—he knew he couldn’t be the one carrying the trigger.
But there was someone he trusted to second guess him when it came to triggers. There was someone he knew would follow protocol.
In short, if the Ferox numbers were coming in at this rate but holding their lines, Malkier must finally be testing the waters—finally confident that no nasty surprise was waiting for him in The Never. The bonded pair remained in play. His attempt to assassinate the female half had failed. But if they had no weapon, those things were simple obstacles to overcome.
“Jonathan,” Rourke’s voice came over the comm. “Malkier, he here.”
“You’re certain? He may look like any Alpha, but he has a scar on his cheek,”
“Can’t see scar. He wear helmet, and full body armor,” Rourke said. “Must be true Borealis steel, not combusting in gas. All Ferox around him part and kneel.”
Jonathan nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like the prophet. What else can you see?”
“Well, I can hear him,” Rourke said. “He sound like giant . . . uh . . . Darth Vader. Ferox act strange since he arrive. Like, they all listen to sound. Think he speak to them somehow.”
Jonathan absorbed all that.
“Thank you, Rourke,” he said. “Hold your position, and stay out of sight.”
“Dah.”
Jonathan took one last look over the city, hardly able to see more than a few blocks due to the thick haze of WX. He opened a channel to every man he had left.
“Never Army. Converge at rendezvous. It’s time.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THREE
AFTER A NUMBER of controlled demolitions and two days of fighting, The Never Army should have been able to see the conduit from where they stood on the roof of the Washington convention center.
But the WX gas was too dense.
So, the sight became little more than Ferox packing into streets and slowly pushing closer as their numbers swelled.
Jonathan turned away from that for a moment and looked at Rylee. With her visor in place she seemed u
nreal. She walked and stood like Rylee, but her shape was Leah’s. When she spoke, the words came out a mix of Leah’s voice and Rylee’s accent.
It all confused his mind.
At the moment, she noticed him watching her and her head tilted in curiosity back at him.
He wondered what thoughts ran through her mind. Rylee couldn’t possibly be thinking what he was at that moment, because he was thinking of how close they stood to where they first met.
She couldn’t be thinking the same, because they literally had different memories of meeting. He’d heard some of the story from her. For Rylee, they had met somewhere in the middle of downtown. Fought two Ferox and found themselves on top of a building—overcome by the carnal push of the bond.
For him, it had been quite different.
Jonathan didn’t think of that first morning when Rylee came to his house looking for him as the moment they met. For him, they really met later that night. He watched from an overpass as she knocked a Ferox onto the I-5 Freeway. Sat staring, dumbfounded, as she then pursued it into the evening traffic.
That was when they both understood what they really were. He thought of this now, because the convention center was built on a tunnel that straddled the same freeway. Despite the gas, he could see that very overpass from where they all now stood.
He looked at what remained of his army, Rylee and what remained of his brothers. The next hour would decide all their fates, and each and every one of them looked to him.
Olivia’s voice came to him on the comm. “From what I can see, they don’t show much hurry.”
“He’s got a thousand Ferox around him. He knows exactly where I am and that I have less than a hundred men,” Jonathan said. “He’s afraid.”
“Do you have a plan to get him away from the portal?”
Jonathan looked to Bodhi, the kid was standing next to a waist-high box. Admittedly, he had let his roommates and Mr. Clean take licenses with exactly what the box did—after all, he just needed it to be loud. That said, he was not exactly surprised when they presented him one big box with one big red button.
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